Measuring Life with Coffee Spoons
by L.M. Avalon
Summary: Kagome never could have guessed that this was the turn her life would take because of a stranger in a coffee shop. AU. Inu/Kag.
1. Measuring Life with Coffee Spoons

AU. Inu/Kag. Mir/San. Everyone's human. Modern day. Began as a oneshot, but now a twoshot.

Title is a reference to T. S. Eliot's _The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock. _Read it sometime. :]

04-03-2011: Just to clarify, Sango and Miroku are both about 24 years old, while Kagome is finishing up college at 22 years old.

Disclaimer: I do not own _Inuyasha_.

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><p>Measuring Life with Coffee Spoons<p>

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><p><strong>Day 21<strong>

"What do you think he's doing on that laptop all the time?" Kagome asked curiously, leaning her forearms onto the café countertop. As if the stranger could sense the steady interest of her blue eyes from across the room, he flicked his own gaze up to meet hers and glared heatedly until she could feel a blush warm her cheeks. Only after he looked back down was she able to pull her eyes away. She turned to Sango, who was standing next to her elbow-deep in the espresso machine calibrating it, but the brunette had clearly missed Kagome's question and the scene that had followed.

Unfortunately, Miroku, the café's co-owner and Sango's husband, had noticed everything. "Porn," he answered seriously, his eyes—so dark brown they were almost violet—now fixed to his wife's backside; although it seemed a little perverted, Kagome thought that he was doing it to give her time to calm her burning cheeks while he looked away.

Once she was sure she was no longer blushing, Kagome shot her manager a dirty look. "Who watches porn in public?" she asked the pervert incredulously only a split-second before something dawned in her eyes, and she started to wave her hands frantically in front her. "Wait, wait! Don't answer that. I don't want to know!"

Sango finally retracted her head from the machine and tossed a look over her shoulder at Kagome, her friend and employee, and Miroku, her letch. The married couple had opened the café shortly after their honeymoon and college graduation only two years earlier. Sango handled the machines and products while Miroku took care of the financial side of things. Kagome, although a couple of years younger than them, had known them from some of her classes at the university and had applied to be a barista. Working for friends wasn't always easy (Kagome tended to not listen to them like a good employee should, and it sometimes got awkward seeing each other _all the time_), but luckily they worked most issues out whenever they popped up.

Now, about the stranger…

Kagome didn't know how long the man had been coming in before she noticed there was a pattern to it, but it had been three weeks since she noticed that she was noticing that pattern. Every Tuesday and Saturday (which were her two lunch shifts) as well as Thursday (according to Kagome's coworker Ayame who worked the lunch shift on that day), the man came in at 12:30 P.M. almost on the dot. Sometimes he was dressed casually in jeans and a t-shirt, sometimes nicely in a button-downs shirt and slacks (these were the days that he was the most rude). He didn't talk much. He just placed his order (always, "Coffee, just black.") and then resorted to only grunts and facial expressions for any further communication. Afterwards, he sat down at the corner table, his back to the wall, and pulled out his laptop. Forty-five minutes later, he would pack up and leave without another glance at anyone.

… Had Kagome happened to mention that he was also attractive? A little rough around the edges, maybe, but he had long, thick, black hair pulled away from his face and intense, golden-brown eyes. Unfortunately, he also wore a perpetually surly expression. Plus, his attitude stunk. Other than that, he was easy on the eyes. When not helping other customers, Kagome would often find her eyes drawn to him without thinking about it. Normally, he didn't notice her attention… unlike today.

"What are you two gossiping about now?" Sango asked, wiping her hands absently on a dishrag. Only afterward did she notice that she'd already managed to get a greasy smudge on her crisp, white blouse. The brunette swiped at it fruitlessly with a grimace, wondering why she bothered to dress up for work when she always ended up getting her hands and clothes dirty.

Kagome repeated her earlier question in a low voice with a quick glance at the man across the room, who was back to typing rapidly in concentration.

"He's probably just checking his email," Sango suggested, watching the man openly.

Kagome gave her boss-slash-friend a very dry look, indicating silently that she thought it needed a much juicier explanation than that. Business was slow, and let's face it, she felt like people-watching. They were briefly interrupted when the man, like clockwork, began packing up his things at 1:15 P.M. and took off for the door. "At least he cleans up after himself," Kagome pointed out appreciatively as the guy dropped his empty cup into the trashcan stationed next to the exit. He may have been a terrible conversationalist, but a patron cleaning up after himself always scored points with the (somewhat lazy) employee.

Miroku, who Kagome could always count on to play along with her imagination when his much more realistic, practical wife wouldn't, lightheartedly suggested, "Maybe he's a spy!"

"Yes!" Kagome agreed enthusiastically, turning on her heel to face the much taller, dark-haired man as soon as the stranger was out of sight. "He's typing up his reports after deadly missions."

"To save the world," Miroku tacked on. "In fact, he just finished yet another battle with his arch-nemesis, Naraku McBadguy, over control of a giant missile that could have destroyed Earth!"

Sango crossed her arms and leaned her hip against the counter, one eyebrow raised as she tried to decide whether to be exasperated or amused with the two of them. "Among the many ways I could poke holes in your theory," she told them, "I would like to just point out two. One, he doesn't have a scratch on him."

"Clearly, he's just _that good_, dear," Miroku informed his wife patiently with a charming smile.

"Or his clothes are covering up all the scrapes and bruises," the younger girl pointed out, pondering an image of the stranger dancing through her mind shirtless and flexing. She waved the image away after a second with a self-indulgent grin stretching her face.

"Two," Sango continued as if she hadn't heard their counterarguments, "do you really think a government agency would send the same man on three missions a week so that he'd have time to be back here every time, on time to type up his reports? What, does the world not ever take more than two days to save?"

Kagome deflated a little, pursing her lips thoughtfully. "Maybe he's been working on the same report this whole time after a huge, major mission three weeks ago?" she argued weakly.

"Yes," Sango agreed with a teasing laugh, "I've heard that all secret agents spend forty-five minutes, three times a week typing up their reports. It's standard procedure. Now, if you two are done playing James Bond, I need to go place a baked goods order; we're low on almond cookies again." With that, she pushed off from the counter and weaved around her husband and friend, patting Kagome on the shoulder as she passed. As if tied to his wife by an invisible string, Miroku turned to follow the brunette before she could get far, and together they went into the office in the back, leaving Kagome to her musings.

"I'll figure it out," she swore to herself under her breath with a mischievous smile.

**Day 28**

A week later, Kagome was manning the register during an unusually busy Saturday lunch rush and calling out drink orders to Ayame, who was running the espresso machine, and food orders to Shippou, the new employee. Unlike Kagome and the other employees (which included a prissy snob named Yura, a guy named Kouga who alternated between hitting on Kagome and Ayame, and a sweet but somewhat dense boy named Hojo), the redheaded Shippou was a high school student and not in college. Kagome had thrown him a bone that morning and was letting him retrieve pastries and walk those out to customers rather than do anything remotely difficult.

"Why's it so busy?" Shippou cried, looking up to see that the line was still out the door.

"I bet it's the new art gallery around the corner," Kagome guessed, handing a middle-aged woman her change and directing her to the other end of the counter for pick-up. With a glance at the clock, she noticed that it was only two minutes until the stranger's arrival time.

"Shippou," she began out of the corner of her mouth, still looking at the customers with a smile fixed in place, "the table in the corner just cleared up. I need you to take a cup of black coffee out to it and make sure no one sits down until I give you the okay."

With a confused, "Yes, ma'am," Shippou did as ordered, taking a large cup of unpaid-for coffee to the table and setting it down, standing next to it awkwardly like a guard with his green eyes watching Kagome. Soon, he noticed her eyes light up with recognition. Following the direction she was looking, he saw a man come in with a troubled look on his face as he saw the long line. The blue-eyed girl leaned to the side and waved her hand in the air eagerly until she caught the stranger's attention. She then pointed toward Shippou, the table, and the coffee before giving him a wide smile and nodding her head encouragingly.

When the man looked his way, Shippou gave him a small wave with an embarrassed smile on his face. The stranger, today in a suit with his tie already loosened around his neck, approached, weaving around the other patrons.

"Here, sir," Shippou said, straining to be polite. The angry expression the man had made the boy itch with annoyance, but he didn't do anything about it. The kid knew his petite, perky coworker would have his hide if he was rude. "Kagome sent me over with this… I guess you can pay when things calm down?"

With a grunt, the man collapsed in his chair. Shippou hesitated, wondering if that was all he was going to get from the guy, but when the redhead turned to go, he heard a low grumble, "Thanks, I guess. Tell her that, too."

Nearly fifty minutes later, Kagome watched with a tired but pleased smile as the last customer took his coffee order from Ayame. Running the back of her hand across her forehead, Kagome let out a slow breath and looked around the café. The place was a mess! They had their work cut out for them to get everything cleaned up before the after-dinner rush started. Thankfully, the night shift—Kouga and Hojo—would have shown up by then.

As she stepped out from behind the counter with a trash bag, she noticed something sitting on the table in the corner. The guy was gone, but he'd left behind payment for his coffee in exact change.

**Day 31**

Something was wrong.

Kagome turned her eyes back and forth between the stranger in his corner and the clock. It was 1:41 P.M., which, if she did the math right, was twenty-six minutes after the time the man was supposed to pack up and leave. She leaned against the counter thoughtfully, her eyes scouring his appearance from head to toe. It was another suit day. He'd long since deposited his jacket in the chair opposite him and loosened his tie; his sleeves were now rolled up to his elbows. As she watched, he'd type furiously for several minutes, then slow to a stop with his hands hovering over the keyboard before angrily hitting the same button—likely the 'delete' button—many times. He would then start the process all over again.

"He's still here?" Miroku asked in surprise, suddenly at her elbow. Kagome jumped a little, startled after studying the man so intensely.

"Yeah. Weird, right?"

"Very," Miroku agreed. "Why exactly are you so interested?"

Kagome looked over at her boss quickly and then turned away with an honest shrug. "I don't know. Hey, you know how I like to read, right?" At Miroku's nod, she continued, "I've been reading a ton of mystery novels lately by the same author, and I guess it's making me a little extra curious."

"You've always been too curious, Nancy Drew." Miroku affectionately ruffled her hair and turned to walk away. "I've got to place some calls."

Kagome slanted him a knowing look. "Tomorrow's your anniversary. I hope those calls are for flowers and gifts for your wife."

"I can tell you nothing," Miroku said, pantomiming turning a key into his lips as if to lock them shut. "You're a spy. You'll tell my plans to the enemy."

Kagome laughed good-naturedly with a lop-sided grin and ran a hand through her hair to settle it back into place. "'Enemy' is right. We both know Sango could take you if you screwed up."

Miroku returned her smile… but looked a little uneasy. "Like I said, I need to go place some _very urgent_ calls."

After he'd retreated to the office and shut the door with a dry _click_, Kagome turned her attention back to the stranger. Now he was sitting with his elbows on the table, his fingers threaded into his hair and holding on tightly. In short, he looked stressed.

With only a moment of hesitation, Kagome picked up the coffee pot and approached his table. Silently, she closed her fingers around his cup and slid it away from the laptop to safely refill it. She noted but didn't react when the man jumped, surprised by her presence just as Miroku had surprised her a few minutes earlier.

"On the house," she said with a perky smile in his direction, trying to slyly glance at his screen. Unfortunately, Kagome was standing at the wrong angle to see anything, and she worried he'd noticed if she adjusted her position. He grunted. The girl rolled her eyes and withdrew, feeling like she'd achieved nothing.

Unfortunately, she missed the way his eyes watched her retreating back.

**Day 45**

Kagome, as was usual for a Thursday, was watching the café by herself while a manger—today, that manager was Sango—took care of business in the back office. Bored, the blue-eyed girl organized the pastries in the bake case for the third time. It was 2:13 P.M. The stranger was still there. Since that day two weeks earlier, he had stayed longer and longer with each visit, sometimes even showing up early. With each passing day, he looked more frazzled and typed more passionately, but seemed to be getting even more stressed out no matter how hard he worked. Kagome had taken to silently refilling his coffee cup every thirty minutes, thinking that he needed the boost. His eyes were dark and hollow; she could swear he'd even been losing weight.

With a sigh, she snatched up the coffee pot and walked to his table. It was a slow day, the shop empty besides them. Outside, the rain was falling softly and streaking in rivulets down the window pane. Trying to be as unobtrusive and quiet as possible, she refilled his cup.

His sudden sigh, a huge gust of breath, startled her. Kagome looked to his face, but he was staring intently at the screen. Every once in a while, she tried to steal a peek but had yet to manage to figure out what he was doing without getting caught.

Trying to be helpful, she dropped off the coffee pot and retrieved an almond cookie, their best seller, from the bake case and brought it to the man on a small plate.

Surprised when she set it next to his elbow, he glanced up at her, as if noticing her for the first time. For a second—only a second—his features seemed to brighten in gratitude, and he didn't look as stressed and exhausted and angry. But then, like a thought had dawned on him, his expression caved back into the beaten look he'd been wearing lately.

By the time Kagome was back behind the counter, only a few seconds at most, she saw that the plate was empty, not even a cookie crumb left. And she could have sworn he had a small, pleased smile on his face.

**Day 52**

"You," Sango stated suspiciously, "look way too pleased with yourself."

Kagome gave her friend a smug smile, a light blush tinting her cheeks. "Want to know why?"

"Maybe," the brunette conceded slowly, as if she was worried Kagome would admit to something dirty.

Kagome leaned in closely, her face conspiratorial as she whispered, "When he left today, he smiled at me."

**Day 59**

Five smiles.

The stranger had given Kagome _five _smiles over the past week. Make that six, she calculated happily as he smiled at her again when she refilled his coffee cup. He still looked angry and surly and snarky most of the time, but he was still finding it in him to smile at her when he came in, when he left, and now when she brought him coffee. If he had seemed attractive before as the brooding stranger, Kagome was sure he was even more attractive when he smiled. His eyes, so serious sometimes, lit up and became gold, and he suddenly looked younger, more like her age instead of someone who was aged beyond his years.

Six. _Six_ smiles.

**Day 80**

Kagome was worried sick.

The man hadn't come in for three of his days in a row, which meant it had been an entire week since she'd last seen him. He had never missed a day before, and now he had missed _three_? The first time had been on a Thursday during Ayame's shift. The redheaded girl hadn't informed Kagome until, that following Saturday, Kagome had been wringing her hands behind the register when it was 1:05 P.M., and he hadn't shown. Ayame had only then, after Kouga had given her a pointed look because Kagome was having trouble focusing on the customers, approached Kagome and told her.

It was 3:34 P.M. on Tuesday, and Kagome was staring out the floor-to-ceiling windows silently wishing he would walk through the door any second.

For goodness' sake, she didn't even know the man's name… but what if he'd gotten in a car accident? What if he'd been hurt or, much worse, _killed_? It didn't help that she'd convinced herself after he'd left the week before that she would ask him out the next time she saw him. It felt like someone had jerked the rug out from under her feet.

The week before, when she came to fill his cup and he gave her that small smile in return, she'd been surprised when he'd asked, "What can you tell me about this place?"

His voice was nice. Gruff, but nice, and Kagome felt a small flutter in her stomach. She was half turned away from him, ready to walk away, but now she faced him fully. And then, for the next ten minutes while he listened (no longer smiling, but at least he didn't look bored or annoyed), she told him about the café, Sango and Miroku, and her coworkers. When she was finished, he smiled at her again.

"Thanks," he told her, sounding sincere, before looking back at his laptop and starting to type again, effectively ending the conversation.

She'd been a little confused, but pleased. Now, she convinced herself, she had a better foundation on which to base the fact that she had the biggest crush on the man. At least they'd talked now… Mostly, she'd just been happy with the smiles and the small gestures of gratitude and the fact that she felt so happy and light whenever he was sitting at his table.

That was last week.

This week, he was gone.

**Day 248**

Six months had passed since Kagome had last seen the man. It had been so distracting that she had traded some of her shifts with coworkers and rearranged her class schedule. She had gotten sick of always watching the door, always wondering, always worrying. She had since graduated college and gotten a "real job" as a social worker, but she still set aside enough time to work one day of the weekend at the café. Working a regular job, a 9-to-5 job, meant she had evenings free to spend time with Sango and Miroku as if they were her real friends and not bosses-slash-friends like before.

It was beautiful out. A crisp fall day, but the sun felt warm on her bare arms and the breeze was small, just enough to ruffle her hair without completely rearranging it.

She had finished work and was walking home to her apartment, a jaunt in her step; today was the day her favorite author's latest mystery novel would hit the shelves. Thankfully, there was a small bookstore on her route home.

Kagome stood on the sidewalk, peering through the window at the towering display. "Measuring Life with Coffee Spoons," she read out loud, under her breath of course, with excitement. Because of the years she worked at the café, the blue-eyed girl found she was fond of anything related to coffee. Having it tied to her favorite author was more than she could have hoped for.

With a grin and a wink at her own reflection in the window, she entered the store to make her purchase.

**Day 255**

Kagome licked her finger and used it to turn the last page, a pleased smile on her lips.

She had very carefully read the book, savoring it and making sure she took her time reading, only a couple of chapters each day. Still, she couldn't have saved it forever and had finally finished it, a week almost to the hour since she had bought it. This novel had been much better than any of the previous ones.

Mostly that was because she felt this instant connection with the main character. Unlike the other novels, which had taken place from the point of view of a detective, this book was seen through the eyes of another character. The detective was still there, but he was mostly in the peripheral. The main character, this time, was a heroine instead of a hero. With a thrill, Kagome had realized the first day that the woman described on the pages was almost exactly like her. Long, black hair, wide blue-gray eyes, pale skin, barely over five feet tall, perky, friendly, sweet but with a quick temper when necessary, worked in a coffee shop (hence the title),…

The list went on.

The book had been so good, in fact, that it had distracted her from almost everything else.

As she finished reading the last word, she turned the page and noticed that, for the first time in eight novels, the author had included a small biography and even a picture of himself on the back flap of the dust jacket. With a start, Kagome leaned closer, her nose almost pressing against the surface, drinking in his face.

She knew that strong jaw, those thin, set lips, that nose, those eyes…!

Quickly, as if the book would bite her, Kagome flipped back to the first page, the dedication page.

"To the girl who inspired it all," she read out loud, the tip of her finger tracing the words. "She deserved a book just for her. Thanks for the coffee." Stunned, she stared at the paper for several minutes, finally lifting her eyes and looking to her cat, a plump thing curled up next to her.

"No," she breathed out. "There is absolutely no way."

Buyo, with a yawn, looked boredly back at her.

**Day 256**

"Inuyasha," a bored yet still somehow irritated voice said into the phone line, identifying himself.

Kagome clutched the phone tighter to her ear, steeling her nerves. "Why," she started, but her voice sounded strained and hoarse, so she licked her lips, gulped, and tried again. "Why didn't you ever tell me you were Inuyasha Taisho?"

A few heavy seconds passed as, Kagome was sure, the man on the other end tried to work out her accusation. "Excuse me?" he asked finally, sounding bewildered and angry.

"For more than two and a half months I saw you every week, and you never, not even once, said that you were _the author_ Inuyasha Taisho! And then you disappeared without a word, without any explanation, and then you_ dedicate a freaking book to me_," Kagome continued, almost shrilly, but she managed to keep a leash on her voice.

"…Oh."

"All that time you were writing a mystery novel? You are the worst conversationalist on the planet; I never would have guessed you were a writer. I'm still stunned. I love your books, have I mentioned that yet? I suppose every time you were in a suit, you had probably just met with your publisher. I checked a fansite—not that I'm one of those obsessive fans—and it said your publisher is your older stepbrother, some hard-ass named Sesshoumaru Taisho? Anyway, and then… I suppose when you started getting upset and working harder, he must have been putting pressure on you to finish your next book. Right?"

"I—I… What?"

"Inuyasha Taisho," Kagome repeated in awe, quieter now. Believe it or not, she had actually worked hard on this speech. All the night before, she had stared at her ceiling while trying to fall asleep, trying to figure out exactly what her words would be when—_if_—she could get a hold of the author. She had replayed everything over and over again in her mind, struggling with how embarrassing but pleasing it felt to know that she had made such an impression that the guy had written a book based on and then dedicated to _her_. There was no doubt in her mind that it was her, by the way. The more she thought about it, the surer she was. Unfortunately, clearly, those words had fled as soon as the receptionist had put her call through to the irritable, famous author.

This was so much better than a spy for the government.

It had taken time to figure out how to get in touch with him. As an author, he really was antisocial and unreachable. She had to claw through the internet, piecing together what she could from small biographies on fansites, barely-detailed press releases, and the very tiny description provided by the publishing company he used. She'd discovered some useless and some interesting things, like his favorite food (ramen), his age (nearly twenty-six years old, impressive considering he'd written and released eight novels in six years; Kagome felt certain that he used his connection to Sesshoumaru and skipped college to do this, writing as soon as he was out of high school. This was all conjecture, of course, and she was itching to ask him about this and other topics), and his hobbies (kendo and judo).

As if he had finally worked out who had called him, Inuyasha cleared his throat uncomfortably. "Sorry about… I mean, just taking off was probably…"

"Nerve-wracking? For me, I mean?" Kagome supplied helpfully.

Almost guiltily, he made an unintelligible humming sound. "I finished my book, and as soon as it was sent to the printers, Sesshoumaru insisted I do a book-signing tour in Europe."

Kagome drew in a deep breath, twirling the phone cord around her finger as if she was a love-struck teenager. She floundered, grasping for something to say as the silence stretched between them, heavy but not uncomfortable. Thankfully, he started speaking again.

"So… you liked the book?" he asked, his voice low and husky and a little thrill ran down her spine as she wondered if he was _trying _to sound sexy, or if that was just natural when he was talking over the phone. His voice was probably so low only because, she thought with a small smile, he was actually nervous about her answer to his question. Maybe. It was hard to picture him nervous. In fact, it was almost hard to picture him at all anymore after six months. Thankfully, she had his author's picture sitting in front of her to remind her of just who she was talking to.

"Your best one yet," Kagome told him sincerely. Then, hastily, she added, "And I'm not saying that only because I'm practically the main character."

"Good," he answered, sounding pleased and self-conscious, and Kagome imagined he was rubbing the back of his neck, as if also struggling to figure out how to move this conversation, this almost-relationship, forward.

"So," Kagome said faintly, again trying to steel her nerves. With a deep breath, she plunged ahead. "Would you like to go out with me sometime?"

"Yes," Inuyasha said immediately. A beat passed before he asked, "How's coffee sound?"

"Perfect."

**Day 365**

"Coffee, just black."

"And for you?" Shippou asked, turning from Inuyasha to Kagome with a grin.

"Something sweet," Kagome returned, smiling at the redheaded boy affectionately. "Oh, and an almond cookie."

"You eat way too much sugar," Inuyasha told her, eyeing her sternly.

Kagome smiled brilliantly up at him, not put off by his surliness. "The cookie's for you. I know it's your favorite."

He grunted and looked away, but she noticed how the tips of his ears turned the lightest shade of pink.

Shippou handed the coffees and then the cookie over, waving away Inuyasha's hand as the man held out money. "On the house. Kagome always gets free stuff. She has connections."

Kagome laughed lightly, winking at the boy and wrapping her fingers around the coffee cup and loving how warm it felt as it seeped through the cardboard to her skin. When she turned away from the register and looked over at Inuyasha, she noticed that the plate with the cookie was already empty. With a chastising expression, she frowned up at him.

"Sorry," he said, but he was grinning slyly. "You were just too slow."

"I guess it's okay," she said with a playful sigh before stretching on her tip toes and pressing her mouth to his, gently. She pulled away and licked her lips, as if she had just eaten the cookie herself. "Oh! They're good today."

With an amused chuckle, he steered them toward the table in the corner. "Keep that up, and I might write you another book."

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><p><strong>The End of Part 1<strong>


	2. There Will Be Time

AU. Inu/Kag. Mir/San. Everyone's human. Modern day.

This takes place two years after Part 1.

Title is again a reference to T. S. Eliot's _The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock. _

Disclaimer: I do not own _Inuyasha_.

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><p>There Will Be Time<p>

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><p><strong>Day 84<strong>

It had been eighty-four days since filming for the movie adaptation of _Measuring Life with Coffee Spoons_ had begun. Really, saying eighty-four days was just a dramatic way to measure time—it was the equivalent of saying three months. That, however, sounded far less serious to Kagome. When she talked about the movie to her friends and family, she wanted to make sure they understood how long it felt to her.

It had been eighty-four days since she had last seen her boyfriend, Inuyasha, the author of the above mentioned book.

Really, she knew they were lucky that the director had agreed to let him on set as a 'producer.' A lot of authors got zero say in the adaptations of their books. Even so, Kagome hated the fact that he had been gone for eighty-four days, filming in Italy. _Italy_. The book didn't even take place in Italy!

As if the situation wasn't already bad enough, there was also the fact that the main character was based on Kagome. Which was flattering and sweet and the main reason a relationship had started between her and Inuyasha in the first place, but…

It was just so embarrassing!

Thankfully, the only people who knew the truth behind the front page dedication in _Measuring Life with Coffee Spoons_ were Kagome's family and close friends and Inuyasha's half-brother (who also happened to be his publisher).

As if he knew how down Kagome was feeling, her friend and ex-manager, Miroku, plopped down next to her. She had set up shop at the table by the window nearly four hours earlier. After all the time she had worked in the café herself, just being there calmed her down. The smell of coffee and the sound of milk being steamed could be downright soothing. Today, though, it didn't seem to be working.

"I was flipping through a tabloid this morning," Miroku began casually, propping his chin on a closed fist.

"You would be," Kagome shot at him with a weak grin.

"And I saw some pictures for the movie," Miroku finished smoothly. He paused and leaned forward conspiratorially. "Want to see?"

"Already saw them," Kagome admitted with a bashful look. "The similarity is almost scary, isn't it?"

"Ah, you mean between you and the actress who's playing you?"

"She's not playing _me_," Kagome corrected immediately, her cheeks flaring up with the usual blush at any mention of 'her' starring role in the book. "She's playing the heroine."

"Who happens to be based on you and therefore looks like you, acts like you, and works the same job as the one you did when you first met the author," Miroku elaborated with a devilish smile. "Face it, Kagome, it's basically a movie about you."

"_Anyway_," Kagome said forcefully in a peeved attempt to take back control of the conversation, "that actress, Kikyou, really looks like me, doesn't she? I thought Inuyasha was exaggerating when he told me after the casting."

"Well, she fits the description in the book. Which, might I point out again, is based on you."

"She has to wear blue contacts since her eyes are gray, and I heard they had a lot of trouble getting her to agree to the wardrobe—too many pastels, I guess—but other than that…"

Miroku stayed quiet, choosing to study his friend closely instead of responding right away. There was something bothering Kagome that he couldn't quite put his finger on. Even if his lovely wife, Sango, hadn't shoved him toward the table five minutes earlier with a sharp demand to _Fix Kagome, damn it_, he would have come over to stick his nose in her business anyway. "Who's playing the detective?"

When a slow smile slid across Kagome's face, he was surprised at the sudden lift in her mood but proud of himself for causing it nonetheless.

"Get this, the detective is played by a guy named Naraku."

"Naraku?" Miroku echoed. "Why does that name sound familiar?"

"Come on, you've got this," she encouraged, waggling her eyebrows.

And then it hit him. "No way! Naraku McBadguy the arch-nemesis of Inuyasha the spy?"

"Bingo!" Kagome laughed, recalling their conversation nearly two years ago when she and Miroku had all these crazy conspiracies that could explain why Inuyasha (whose name they didn't know at the time) had been repeatedly coming into the café. "Except his name is Naraku Onigumo. What're the chances?"

"I'm guessing slim to none, but that's pretty cool."

"Yeah," she agreed while taking one last glance out the window. The sun had started to set. She gathered up her things and stood from the table, stopping only to drop a kiss to Miroku's cheek. "Thanks," she said.

"For what?"

"You know what you did," she teased, but she sounded genuinely grateful.

Miroku watched her leave the café with a thoughtful look on his face. He may have temporarily cheered her up, but he hadn't, in Sango's words, 'Fixed Kagome.' Not yet, anyway, but he wasn't about to give up.

**Day 108**

"What'll it be?" Shippou asked with a grin at his favorite person in the entire world. In the two years since Kagome had started dating Inuyasha and stopped officially working at the café (although she was known to help out around the holidays when the staff wanted more days off), the redheaded boy had graduated high school and started college.

He was the last remaining member of the 'old crew.' Hojo, Kouga, Ayame, and Yura had all graduated college and moved on to bigger and brighter things. Secretly, Kagome was happy, because that meant she could have her adorable pseudo-little brother all to herself. (Souta, her real little brother, was more attached to Inuyasha these days anyway.)

"Coffee, just black," Kagome replied in a distracted voice that was just as alarming as her order.

"Uhm, Kagome," Shippou began, his hoarse voice pitched low so as to not attract attention from the two customers standing behind her. "You hate black coffee. You like fancy lattes with way too many syrups and whip cream."

Kagome blinked back at him, and it was obvious that she was forcing herself to focus. She scrunched her face up in confusion. "Wait, what did I order?"

"Black coffee."

"Ick! Just… just give me whatever I got last time, Shippou," she said apologetically.

"Sure thing," he agreed with a smile. "And an almond cookie?"

There was an unusual pause, and Shippou could have sworn Kagome's lower lip started to tremble as if she was on the verge of tears. Finally, she shook her head slowly. "No, thanks. Not this time."

Quickly, Kagome handed over enough money to cover whatever drink Shippou could possibly make her and still have enough left over for a good-sized tip. With one last faint smile, she left the counter and found a table in the corner. Shippou followed her with his eyes, his eyebrows knitted together as he tried to understand what had just happened. Finally, he realized that Sango had come out from the back office and was standing at his elbow.

"Sango?"

"What is it, sweetie?" (This was hint enough at how weird the exchange was, since Sango was not the type to call anyone 'sweetie,' not even her husband. It was a much more Kagome-like trait.)

"Something's up with Kagome."

"Yeah," Sango agreed, also watching as her friend sat at the table. "Something's definitely up with Kagome."

**Day 114**

This time, pictures from the movie set appeared in some semi-respected gossip magazines in addition to the usual tabloids. The captions and article titles were all the same:

_**Famous Author Has Affair with Leading Lady?**_

Between five magazines, Kagome counted thirteen different photographs. Inuyasha talking to Kikyou by a trailer on set, Inuyasha handing the actress a plate of food, Inuyasha and her standing way too close together under an umbrella, and one extremely grainy image of Inuyasha and someone who appeared to be Kikyou with their faces extraordinarily close to one another, if not touching.

As calm as could be, Kagome shut the cover of the magazine, ashamed that she'd been tempted enough to look in the first place when she knew it would upset her, and pitched all five into the trash can. She then picked up Buyo from where he was sleeping on the floor and retreated to her bedroom.

**Day 115**

"Kagome! This is… _ridiculous_, okay? You know those magazines are bullshit. Look, I've called nine times already. Nine! Do you know how much this is costing me? Over something this stupid, you know? Jerks pay money to get crap pictures like that just to mess with people. Just pick up the damn phone. Just… please."

**Day 118**

Sango rapped her knuckles on Kagome's apartment door. The two women were still close, but they just didn't have as much time to hang out as they'd had when Kagome had been her employee. That was the only excuse Sango had for not noticing for _four _days that the 'something' that was up with Kagome had gotten a whole lot worse. Finally, that morning, Miroku had stumbled across the pictures of Inuyasha and that Kikyou woman in a magazine in the waiting room at the dentist's office.

"Kagome?" Sango called out, her voice steely but concerned. It was a tone that only she managed to pull off without sounding like a complete bitch.

When her friend opened the door, however, Sango was at a loss for words. Kagome looked…

Fine.

She was dressed in a pair of jeans and a sweater, she had mascara and lip gloss on, and her hair was brushed to a silky shine. She even had a smile for Sango when she greeted her.

"Hey! Come on in—mind the mess, I've been cleaning all morning. I forgot how much of a packrat I could be," Kagome said with a laugh.

"Kagome…"

"Hmm?" she asked with another smile, clearing a path to the couch. There were trash bags and cardboard boxes everywhere. Sango peeked inside one labeled 'Charity' and found a bunch of Kagome's old clothes she recognized from their college years. "If you give me five minutes, we can go out for lunch."

"Oh, yeah, sure," Sango replied, befuddled. "That sounds… nice." The brunette hesitated, but in the end, she remembered being subtle was more of her husband's specialty than her own. "How are you feeling?"

Kagome, busy tying her shoes, blinked up at her. "Fine?"

"I… Kagome… about those pic—"

Before Sango could finish her sentence, Kagome jumped to her feet and grabbed her friend with one hand and her purse with the other. "Let's get going! I'm starving."

Feeling defeated, Sango just trailed along in her wake.

**Day 118**

"…Kagome? Can you at least pick up your phone just once—you don't have to say anything—or send me a text or something so I know you're okay? I tried Miroku and Sango, but they're not answering either. Shit, I even tried Sesshoumaru, and he hung up on me. You've gotta know this is all a total misunderstanding. If you'd just… if you'd just answer your phone, we could fix everything."

**Day 120**

"Go get 'er, tiger!" Sango whisper-shouted encouragingly, giving Shippou a small shove in Kagome's direction. The black-haired girl was reading a book at her usual table, a hot chocolate and a scone on either side of her. When Shippou tried to mention almond cookies this time around, she'd flat out cut him off mid-sentence.

"But what do I _say_?" the boy demanded, obviously terrified, as he dragged his feet.

Sango gave him another push. "Just chat with her. She's acting totally happy and normal, and it's _freaking us out_. It's like there never was an Inuyasha, but we all know there was, right?"

"Uh, right," Shippou agreed, quirking his eyebrows at his boss as if he thought she was crazy. With one last dark look from Sango, he stumbled into motion. "Hey, Kagome," he greeted, taking a seat next to one of his best friends and trying to figure out if he was supposed to look friendly or concerned. (In the end, he looked constipated from trying too hard to look both friendly _and _concerned.)

"Hey, Ship," Kagome chirped cheerily, pushing her scone toward him a couple of inches in a silent offer to share.

Happily, Shippou snapped off a piece of it and popped it in his mouth. Not even bothering to swallow first, he asked, "So, uh, how are you?"

"Why does everyone keep asking me that?" Kagome replied immediately with one of her patented overdramatic eye-rolls. "Work's fine, family's fine, cat's fine. I get to visit you guys at least twice a week, and I saw a good movie—I read a good book—"

When she said 'movie' and again when she said 'book,' Kagome flinched as if someone had shoved or shouted at her. Shippou's shoulders drooped, and he leaned across the table to place his hand over Kagome's.

"You know, those pictures were totally innocent. It was just that bogus headline that made it look bad."

"I know," Kagome said quietly, her thinly-masked gloom finally coming to the surface. "Is there something wrong with me since I won't just sit down and hear him out?" she demanded, her voice almost angry. "But, wait, even before this, things were…"

"Yeah, we noticed," Shippou admitted. "You've been weird for months."

"It's just—" Here, Kagome cut herself off, shielding her eyes with her hand. Shippou didn't think she was crying yet, but she sure seemed close. "He barely called after he left, and he's always leaving for weeks or months at a time to go on book tours, and he gets so _freaking crabby _when there's a deadline. We've been dating for over two years, and if I even try to mention moving in together, he shuts me down right away."

"None of those things bothered you before he went away to film the movie," the redhead pointed out practically. "In fact, you even told me that you thought it was 'cute' with how stressed and worried he got about making a deadline. I mean, even at his worse, back when he was writing _Measuring Life_, you guys still had a connection even when he was… Well, he was kinda a prick to everyone else. But not you."

"But now he has Kikyou!" Kagome wailed, startling Shippou, Sango behind the counter, and the three other customers. "She's his age and not almost four years younger like I am, and she's sophisticated and rich and—"

"_Not_ you," Shippou interrupted forcibly, supportively. "So what if she's the same height as you and has the same colored hair? Kikyou's not you. And Inuyasha loves _you_, right? I mean, Kagome, he wrote a _book _for you when all you'd done was bring him coffee and smile at him for two months… How many times has he called you since those pictures came out?"

"I don't know," Kagome mumbled evasively. "Like… thirty?"

"I think what the real problem here is," Shippou said wisely, getting to his feet and patting Kagome on the head as if he was the older, smarter one of the two, "that this time when he went away, you realized how much you missed him."

With that, he left Kagome to chew over his words.

**Day 122**

"Shooting wraps up in two days. I'll be home in three. You better be waiting at your apartment; we've gotta talk."

**Day 125**

When Inuyasha approached his girlfriend's apartment, he did so with the slow, tentative steps of a person about to face a fight they didn't know they could win. He looked exhausted and haggard—mostly from months living out of a suitcase in a foreign country but also from the eleven days he'd gone without hearing from Kagome.

He had to face it: he was a mess.

However, he was still a man. One of those manly men, he assured himself, who faced the music whether he'd like the outcome or not. Okay, so maybe he could have reacted better or said things differently in his (many) messages. He could have flown home early or called the magazines and demanded a retraction.

Instead, Inuyasha had just sat it out halfway around the world, because, well, he wasn't as good at fixing things as he was at breaking them.

So he knocked on the door and waited (im)patiently as he heard Kagome's steps on the other side. When she opened up, he was almost bowled over by how small and vulnerable she looked. In an oversized sweater, shorts, barefoot and with her hair pulled back, but—

At least she wasn't crying.

To keep himself from throwing his arms around her until he fully understood the situation, Inuyasha crossed his arms against his chest. Then, realizing how that might make him look defensive, he awkwardly uncrossed them and held them firmly at his sides instead.

"Hi," he said.

"Hi," she said right back. Carefully, she asked, "So, did anything happen between you and that actress?"

"No, of course not. _Nothing_."

"Okay."

"Okay?" he asked, surprised.

"Yeah. Okay," she repeated, taking a step forward and successfully closing the yawning chasm he had thought was between them. And in that sweet way she had of making affection seem easy and normal instead of awkward and difficult (like he always did), she looped her arms around his neck and dragged him down to meet her in their first kiss in one hundred and twenty-five days.

**Day 132**

"Hey, Kagome!" Shippou greeted cheerfully from the register, waving excitedly at his friend as she came through the front door of the café. The redhead was gangly but tall enough to see over the heads of his long line of customers.

"Hi," Sango greeted as well, sweeping past with her arms full of drinks that she dropped off at various tables along the way. "Eri quit this morning, and of course Yuka and Ayumi copied her. We're officially back down to just me, Miroku, and Shippou. I don't know if you've noticed, but Miroku couldn't make a drink if his life depended on it. That's why he's in charge of the money."

"Is this a thinly-veiled attempt to get me to help out?" Kagome called after her, a little upset that her friend hadn't asked her about the past week. (Which had been spent holed up in her apartment with her boyfriend.)

"I would love you forever," Sango promised, now sweeping past in the opposite direction with an armful of trash to dump in the wastebasket.

"Say no more," Kagome said, but the café co-owner was long gone.

Under the counter was a spare apron like there always was. Kagome quickly put it on and tied it tight, bumping into Miroku until he got the hint to step away from the espresso machine. Grateful, he retreated to the bakecase and retrieved any orders Shippou called out instead.

It took over thirty minutes, but eventually, finally, the café settled down.

"I almost miss this," Kagome confided with a laugh, leaning against the counter and swiping crumbs off the counter into her cupped hand.

"Don't tease," Miroku warned, "or we might just hire you back."

"Just put up another flyer on campus," Kagome suggested, grinning. "College students flock here."

"I suppose you can have your drink on the house today," Sango told her in a (fake) strained voice, as if it took all of her power to allow this. "A caramel-chocolate-hazelnut latte?"

"Yep," the girl answered while untying her apron. "Oh, plus a coffee, just black, and two almond cookies."

**Day 497**

"Kikyou! Kikyou, over here!"

"Kikyou!"

"Kikyou, is it true that you're engaged to your co-star, Naraku Onigumo?"

"Are you pregnant?"

"An anonymous tip says you and Naraku eloped last month!"

"Seriously, _are you pregnant_, Kikyou? Tell us!"

Kagome squinted against the barrage of blinding flashes and shuffled closer to Inuyasha, tightening her grip on his hand. While all the other stars and important movie people were waving and smiling and chatting with reporters on the red carpet, Kagome and Inuyasha were just trying to get through the crowd as quickly as possible. Inuyasha had even resorted to glaring at any member of the paparazzi who tried to ask him a question about his career or _Measuring Life with Coffee Spoons._

"See, this is why I refused interviews and never released a picture my first six years of writing," he muttered to Kagome, tugging her along faster. She was having trouble keeping up due to her four-inch high-heels and long, beautiful-but-oh-so-annoying gown. Every time a reporter called out to her with a question (mostly about her relationship with _the _Inuyasha Taisho), she resorted to just an embarrassed smile and wave.

"Then why did you put your picture on _Measuring Life_?" Kagome asked, relieved that the building entrance was now in sight.

"How else were you going to figure out who I was?" Inuyasha pointed out with a roguish smile.

**Day 498**

_**Famous Author Proposes to Long-Time Girlfriend at Movie Premier**_

"Now that," Kagome said to herself with a pleased smile, "is a headline worth reading."

* * *

><p><strong>The End of Part 2<strong>


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